


Pick Your Poison

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka)



Series: Paragon of Their Kind 2020 Exchange [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullen Rutherford Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Scandalized Cullen Rutherford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:15:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27459346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold
Summary: Lena Cadash wakes up, alone, in Cullen Rutherford's bed and immediately realizes something is wrong. So she chases him across the fortress wearing nothing but his shirt.
Relationships: Female Cadash/Cullen Rutherford, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Series: Paragon of Their Kind 2020 Exchange [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036824
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26
Collections: 2020 A Paragon of Their Kind Dragon Age Dwarf Exchange





	Pick Your Poison

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CoryFireLion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoryFireLion/gifts).



> Thank you for always being amazing and supportive and helping with this exchange <3 Love you lots!

Lena Cadash woke to a cold, empty bed.

For a moment, she thought she was back in the snow, stumbling tits over ass out of the ruins of Haven. She swore she could smell the smoke and charred flesh lingering in the wind that sliced through her.

She shivered, waiting for the inevitable rush of pain from broken ribs and burned skin. Waited for the mark to pulse and bring her crashing to her knees back in the snowbank.

Waited for Cullen’s arms to curl around her and lift her from the snow.

 _Cullen_.

Her arm flung out, searching before she even truly realized why. Reality crashed back all at once. She was safe, as safe as she could be at any rate, in Skyhold, in her Commander’s bed. The wind swirling bitterly through the room came from the hole in his roof Cullen won’t let her fix and the smoke was simply from his burned out fireplace.

But Cullen wasn’t beside her and _that_ made her heart fly to her throat. Her fingers fisted in the sheet, but it took a moment before she could make her voice work.

“Cullen?” she whispered into the silence.

The only answer was the wind. Lena raised her marked palm, let the sickly green glow illuminate the familiar room. In the dark, alone, it made her stomach twist. Reminded her of rifts and demons and all the worst things she had to face, alone.

Alone because Cullen was _gone_. His breastplate vanished, his mantle missing, the room empty of his reassuring presence.

Nicely done, really. The one good thing she had, and she’d probably chased him away with her flailing and snoring.

Or, even worse, Cullen finally realized what a mistake he’d made. He was good, a white knight, helper of the helpless. She was a criminal, an accident, an agent of chaos and doom.

The Inquisition, and Cullen, had clawed her from the Carta to head their little heretical religious movement. Eventually, they’d realize it had all been a mistake and toss her back into the abyss. Her enemies circled, waiting for her downfall, and nobody would be there to protect her from an assassin’s blade in her back.

Which would be a cleaner end than giving into the despair of losing Cullen, now, after she’d given her blighted, bleeding heart to him so completely.

Lena pushed herself out of bed, bare skin prickling in the cold. Her fingers found one of Cullen’s shirts, the one she’d pulled off him the night before, hanging off the bed post. She slipped it on, luxuriating in the clean scent permeating the fabric.

She sniffed at it, allowing the familiarity to ease her racing heart. Clean hay, parchment, ink, the sandalwood scent of whatever shit he put in his hair each morning. She breathed it all in, letting her nerves settle.

The sleeves fell down past her fingertips when she finally moved, the neckline hanging scandalously off one shoulder, but it covered her the whole way to the knee while she crept across the loft, peering down the ladder to the office below.

“Cullen?” She called again.

She expected him to answer. He’d pop his head into the narrow view of the square framing the ladder, all boyish apologies, rubbing the back of his neck. He’d claim there was a small matter, nothing to bother her with, and tell her she should go back to sleep.

She, of course, wouldn’t. She’d slide down the ladder in nothing but his shirt, pop herself scandalously on the edge of his desk, and watch all his lieutenants try to give their reports in front of a half naked dwarf while Cullen grew more and more distracted by the way she stretched and played with her hair.

It was a fun game. One that almost always ended up with her over one strong, human shoulder and Cullen murmuring darkly about what a menace she was while he climbed the ladder.

She liked to wriggle and see if she couldn’t grab his cute butt while he climbed.

But those pleasant memories couldn’t protect her from the resounding, haunting silence below.

 _Shit_.

She flung herself down the ladder and into the abandoned office. Her bare feet barely hit the wooden planks before she crouched into a ball, dark eyes flicking to the darker shadows.

You could take the girl out of the Carta, but old habits died hard. She didn’t straighten until she ascertained the office was completely empty.

And a _wreck_.

Ice sprung to life in her heart. She raced to the desk, taking in the disarray with growing alarm. Instead of neat piles of reports, papers were scattered and crumbled all over the surface. Some had even fallen to the floor below and been _left_ there, along with a broken bottle of ink, crunched to dust beneath a boot.

“Cullen!” She was aware her voice, ringing off the stone walls, sounded desperate. She simply didn’t care. “ _Cullen_!”

Nothing. Just her own panic echoing back to her.

Careful of the broken glass, she stomped to the door and wrenched it open. The soldier on duty made a frankly unmanly squeak of distress at her appearance.

“Where’s the Commander?” She demanded.

“He- I- my lady…”

“Do not _my lady_ me, tell me where the Commander is.”

He pointed across Skyhold. “He said he needed to pray, your worship.”

 _Needed to pray_. Oh she was going to kick his human ass the _whole_ way back up to this tower.

She didn’t bother returning to the bedroom to dress. She stalked out past the guard, slamming the door shut behind her. The guard sputtered.

“But Your Worship, your clothes-”

“Won’t need them!” She chirped, taking off down the battlements before he or anyone else could protest further.

* * *

Lena paused in the door, shivering in her stolen shirt, and feasted her eyes on the man kneeling before the statue of Andraste. The golden light of candles turned his hair to sunlight, even in the darkness, so unlike the dark hair _she_ hid behind.

She belonged to the shadows and he did not.

He murmured his prayers, but she could still hear them in his low, soft voice. “Maker, though I am but one, I have been called in Your Name, and those who come to serve will know Your Glory. I remembered for them. They will see what can be gained, and though we are few against the wind, we are Yours.”

She didn’t know if Andraste or the Maker listened to prayers, but she imagined if they listened to anyone’s, they listened to Cullen’s.

His shoulders trembled and he lifted his eyes to stare beseechingly into the carved stone face. A chill ran down her spine.

“Please,” his voice broke. “I beg of you, do not make her pay for my sins. Keep her safe. Maker, hear my cry: Guide her through the blackest nights. Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked so I may serve-”

She couldn’t listen a moment longer, not when he shook as if _he_ wore nothing but a shirt and his Maker-given glory. “Cullen?”

He jumped just about out of his skin, turning his attention to her, hand flying to the blade at his waist before he relaxed and collapsed in on himself. “Le- Inquisitor.”

Bruise-like shadows beneath his eyes made his face look gaunt. He looked like he had barely slept at all, so she did the only thing she could think to do.

She ran to him. His arms opened on instinct and she wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face in the ruff around his mantle. With him kneeling, they were the same height, perfectly melding together.

He crushed her to his chest, large hands almost covering her back, stroking her spine. “Lena, I- what time is it? Maker’s breath you’re _freezing_.”

And he was _shaking_ , covered in cold sweat, and clinging to her like he was half afraid she’d vanish.

“You’re sick.” She accused into his mantle, getting a terrible mouthful of the fur there that made her smack her lips in disgust. “Cullen, you’re supposed to tell me when you’re-”

“I can’t.” His admission echoed hollowly. “I can’t burden you. I have to-”

She smacked his shoulder and buried her face into his sweat slick neck. “Let me take care of you, you sodding _idiot_.”

He chuckled, the affection underneath it almost overwhelming. “I am sorry for troubling you.”

She pulled away and glared at him. “Stop apologizing.”

“I’m sor-”

She rolled her eyes and he actually laughed, eyes warming, tracing her face. “I… your support means the world to me. Do not forget it.”

“It better.” She sniffed. “Now say goodbye to Andraste and come back to bed with me. We’ll clean up your office tomorrow.”

“Say goodbye to Andraste.” He repeated, shaking his head. “You are…”

She never got the chance to find out what she was. Cullen’s eyes finally swept down her form and just about fell out of his head. “Maker’s _breath_ , Lena, you’re _indecent_.”

_Oh, she loved it when he was scandalized._

She tipped her lips up in a roguish smile and jerked her chin over his shoulder. “Think Andraste likes to watch?”

His exasperated, yet fond, groan rang so much sweeter than the prayers had. Made her remember he had picked his poison, a long time ago, and it wasn’t lyrium.

Not anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> From Pornzammar with Love, [@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold](https://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com/)


End file.
